


The Kitchen Conversation

by lesbianettes



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: (?), Coda, Consent Issues, Consent is not explicit but is implied, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, Even if there's a gun, Frottage, Gun Kink, M/M, Oral Sex, The Kitchen Scene Rewrite, blowjob, violence kink
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-02
Updated: 2020-11-02
Packaged: 2021-03-09 01:41:43
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,279
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27356698
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lesbianettes/pseuds/lesbianettes
Summary: A rewrite of the scene where Will showed up at Hannibal's house to kill him.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 62





	The Kitchen Conversation

Hannibal tells Will he will find no answers this way, but the answers don’t feel so important anymore; he knows who Hannibal is, and what he deserves for his crimes, and wants to make him pay. But he knows answers will be necessary when the handcuffs come out and his body is soaked in Dr. Lecter’s blood. 

“If I am the ripper and you kill me, who will answer your questions? Don’t you want to know how this ends?”

The gun is almost too heavy in Will’s hands when he steps forward and raises it Hannibal’s head, cocking it, preparing. He watches the way Hannibal turns away from it. The slow work of his jaw. The acceptance. If Will wants him dead, he will be, they both understand that- if he should decide not to go through with it at all, that will be a determination made prior to dragging himself into the kitchen and raising a weapon. The worst part is that Hannibal won’t meet his eyes.

So Will has to make him. 

“On your knees,” he orders. “Now,” when Hannibal hesitates. 

The man sinks down slowly, with his hands up, the way he would in the event he were arrested. So it seems. That would be the day, Will thinks, but this is almost more satisfying. He isn’t the sort of man to take what is not freely given, nor that which would draw pleasure from the idea. He wouldn’t, even with Hannibal. But he still presses the muzzle of the gun to Hannibal’s lips and watches him open them like it’s second nature, take the gun into his mouth and hollow his cheeks around it like a different object. Will watches him carefully. For anything wrong, for any trick, for any thoughts on his sculpted blank face. 

“You’re not smarter than me.”

Hannibal lets his tongue become visible on the underside of the metal. He pulls back a little, but Will follows his mouth with the gun and keeps the threat. He curls his finger tighter on the trigger. And then he pushes it further, makes Hannibal gag on it, until his eyes water and Will has followed him back far enough that his head hits the fridge and he no longer has anywhere to go. 

“You’re not better than me. You’re nothing.”

He shifts his leg forward, and Hannibal closes the distance. Comes closer. He chokes himself on Will’s weapon to press his hips against the toe of Will’s heavy work boot, making it known that he enjoys this. The power is a rush. A painful one. A beautiful one. He smiles in spite of himself and watches Hannibal take the humiliation of it all. After all the manipulation, after the seizures, after the hospital, after everything- this moment is one where Will owns him first. 

“Look at you now, Dr. Lecter. I wonder what Jack and Alana would say.”

This makes him near drunk, to think that all these words forced upon him are now warm in his own mouth. It doesn’t matter how they feel about Will anymore; they thought him a killer. But they still have such high esteem for Hannibal, and it would be paradise to take that away and leave Hannibal just as disgraced and humiliated as Will has felt all this time. He wants to destroy him. Will wants to eat him alive just as Hannibal has tried to do to him. Chilton had said cannibalism is an act of dominance. Another extreme Will would never attempt, but that tells him who this man pretends to be when he doesn’t start to moan like a whore. 

Will shifts his weight such that he can pull his foot back and press it down onto the obscene bulge in Hannibal’s slacks instead. That stills him. Drool runs down his chin as he stares up. Waiting. For a chastisement, for pain, for the bullet to penetrate his skull, it’s unclear, but he is waiting for something to come from the broken killer he has molded Will into through all the gaslighting and secrets.

“Beg me,” he commands. He does not move the gun. “Be polite and say please. It wouldn’t become of you to be rude to me.”

The sound Hannibal makes is muffled and low, close enough to a whine to make an angry and wanting part of Will to flush warm. He hasn’t decided yet if he likes this power over Hannibal enough to be hard for it, but the way Hannibal begins to fuck his mouth on the barrel draws him closer to the precipice of proper arousal. He wonders what it would feel like to take the gun’s place- if Hannibal would like that too, or if he would bite into Will the way he does every one of his victims. 

Will pulls the trigger. 

Hannibal flinches, but there is no firing. The first two chambers are empty, purposefully so, and Will flicks the gun to prep the next one. Their eyes meet. It is clear, the stakes that they drown in, but Hannibal does not abandon his task until Will takes the gun away and sets it on the marble counter. Hands free, he undoes his belt and waits. This is a line that can never be uncrossed, but one he is eager to step past. 

“Show me how much you want it.”

He shifts his weight to make himself available to Hannibal’s frottage again, but makes it clear what he expects in return- Hannibal hesitates for less than an instant before tugging down Will’s pants and boxers. He’s little more than half-hard, though that quickly changes. Hannibal’s mouth is as soft as his voice, wet and as skilled at head as he is at everything else. Will threads a hand through his hair and pulls him closer as Hannibal resumes grinding against him. 

“I hate you,” he says, with not much conviction whatsoever. “I should kill you. I should  _ fucking _ kill you.”

In answer, Hannibal hollows his cheeks and looks up at him, as though saying that Will wouldn’t go through with it if he’s doing this. An underestimation. Still, Will probably won’t shoot him when he has his mouth where it is, so he’s safe for now while Will tries to figure out if he’ll kill him anyways when this moment is over, regardless of the consequences. 

“I’ll make your body interesting, Dr. Lecter, don’t you worry. I’ll leave you wrapped up in a pretty bow for Jack.”

That makes Hannibal’s hips jerk against Will’s foot. He likes it. Will intends to mock him for it, but he’s much more interested in the visible wet patch that appears on Hannibal’s slacks, and how he twitches with sensitivity as he rides out his orgasm.

“I see. You like being threatened, Doctor?”

Hannibal hums. 

Will doesn’t say much more for a few minutes, chasing his own pleasure more fiercely instead, picking up the gun once more when he’s close and pointing it at Hannibal’s face. He thinks about switching the chamber. He thinks about firing until every one is empty. Instead, he cups his free hand around the back of Hannibal’s neck and pulls him in until his nose is pressed to Will’s groin and he can do nothing but swallow as Will comes down his throat. 

He pulls the trigger on the second blank afterward, noting that Hannibal doesn’t flinch this time. When he lets go, Hannibal pulls back and wipes his mouth on his ridiculously expensive handkerchief, and smiles up at him. 

“A gun full of blanks, Will?” he asks hoarsely.

So Will points the gun at the stain on Hannibal’s clothes and fires again. 

**Author's Note:**

> tumblr @neworleansspecial


End file.
